Hello Again
by Quiteokayish
Summary: Feliciano had been dead for years, but if that was the case, who was the smiling Italian across the street with a wild curl in his hair?
1. Chapter 1

**This piece is a sequel to my other pieces, "Presence" and "Fear," both of which describe the death of Northern Italy. You don't have to read them to understand the story. Also, I'm not a historian. None of this was written with historical accuracy in mind.**

* * *

" _And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you."_ _  
_ _―_ _ **Kiersten White**_

* * *

It had been one year since Feliciano's death, and Ludwig was drinking.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, he was German after all, and having a pint of beer every now and again was a part of his culture.

This however, was probably overdoing it.

It was his fifteenth beer. He'd been sitting still at the kitchen table, back straight as a board, a neutral expression on his face the entire time. It was only once he'd finished the pint that he lost the façade.

What followed was pure insanity. He stood, knocked down the chair as he did so, and immediately moved to the counter, sliding all of the empty bottles and glasses there onto the floor in a single, violent action. They shattered, glass dug itself into his feet, and then his knees and he fell to the ground, vomiting.

Ludwig gazed at the blood that streamed down his cut hands. Memories that he'd been blocking out for a year hit him like a freight train. Suddenly Feliciano was lying in his arms, a bloody mess, missing parts of his head. There was a nine millimeter not far from him, just slipping out of the man's right hand as he hit the ground, dead.

He screamed, cried, and shouted in choked German throughout all of it. He felt his brother next to him tugging on his arm, but he pushed him away and clung tighter to Feliciano's corpse.

None of this is real, he had told himself. It was all a dream.

It was the day that Romano was scheduled to be dissolved. Italy only needed one representative, and when that conclusion was made the older of the Vargas brothers was more than willing to die in his brother's place. Part of him wondered how on earth someone could be alright with dying prematurely, but at the same time he was thankful for it. Feliciano would be upset for many years, but he'd be alive, and that's really all the German wanted.

It was a surprise to everyone when he pulled a gun from his pocket. Ludwig had realized what was happening much sooner than anyone else, but even he was too late. The gun was already at his temple, and then he pulled the trigger.

" _Oh Germany, please don't blame yourself."_

" _That must have been terrible. I'm so sorry."_

" _He wasn't in his right mind. This isn't your fault."_

He turned and let his back hit the pantry door, not caring that his feet still stung with the glass pricking their soles, not caring that he'd vomited on himself, that there was beer everywhere, that he'd broken some of his favorite glasses.

Ludwig slowly brought his knees up towards his chest, resting his chin on them as the tears began to fall. He'd been holding them back for so long that it was a relief.

" _This isn't your fault."_

It was though- he'd noticed that Feliciano was acting strange that morning, but passed it off as grief. Never in a million years had he expected this, had he even had the slightest inkling that Feliciano would be able to think of committing such an act, let alone carry it out.

More tears fell as he began to shake. He should have realized what was happening. He should have noticed that one of his guns was missing. He should have stopped it hours before it happened.

But he didn't.

He continued to cry for what felt like hours. Every part of him ached. All he wanted to do was sleep, and he was thankful when his wish was granted just as the sun came up.

* * *

Nineteen years had passed since that night, nineteen years since Gilbert had walked into Ludwig's home to find his brother bleeding and ill on his kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass and beer. It had been nineteen years since he'd cleaned him up and painstakingly took out each shard of glass, then sent his brother to bed without a word, cleaning the kitchen floor with shaking hands.

In the time that passed Gilbert had taken precautions around the anniversary of Feliciano's death, he'd show up to his house the day before, carrying with him some books, board games and an extra set of clothes. They'd drink that entire day, playing board games or talking or simply watching TV, anything to keep his brother distracted. On the next day the process would repeat itself, and on the next day it would as well, until Gilbert had deemed Ludwig to be in such a state that he could be left alone again.

This year however, he suggested something different.

"Let's go out, West!" he said, placing his bag of items on the couch beside him. "There an awesome new bar on-"

"No." Ludwig said.

The Prussian frowned. "What? Why not?"

"I don't want to go out right now."

Gilbert shook his head vigorously. "Look, _bruder,_ I'm trying to distract you. It's been twenty years. You don't need to hurt yourself like this anymore."

Ludwig opened his mouth to speak but Gilbert was quick to interrupt him. "How about this, we'll just try it out. We can go for an hour and if you don't like it we'll come back here and drink ourselves silly just like we usually do."

"I…" Ludwig paused, trailing off. His eyes were distant as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Please, West." He said softly. "He wouldn't have wanted this."

* * *

Ludwig could only be thankful that his brother hadn't invited anyone along with them. Though they managed to sit and talk for a good twenty minutes, Gilbert was soon distracted by their waitress, smiling and flirting every chance he got. The girl responded in kind, leaving Ludwig to sit quietly, his mind wandering.

The act itself was dangerous on a day like today, but he couldn't help it. It was the only time of year he'd allowed himself to relive it, to sit through every detail of that day, to hurt all over again, if only because it kept him from doing so the rest of the year.

Had it really been twenty years since Feliciano's death? He shook his head. It had felt like a hundred years to him. While time passed differently for nations, months going by like hours and decades going by like days, it seemed that it was different for him now. Everything was slower, was more detailed and stimulating than he wanted it to be. He wondered if that was what it was like to be human, and suddenly felt sorry for all of the people on earth.

He sipped absentmindedly at his drink. It was definitely good, and if it were any other day of the year he'd have the heart to enjoy it. He made a mental note to visit the bar in a few months, when this bad day was only a memory.

The waitress brought another round of drinks, smiling at Gilbert's compliment. She then turned to him and spoke, and it took Ludwig a moment to realize that she was trying to talk to him.

"There's no way you two don't have girlfriends." She said, "You're just too cute."

At this Gilbert grinned widely, a blush on his cheeks. "No sweetie, I'm a free man. For now." He said, adding a wink for emphasis.

The waitress giggled, then turned to Ludwig. "What about you honey? Do you have someone at home?"

He could feel his brother cringe next to him. "No." he said, knowing how cold he sounded.

The minute the girl turned her back he stood.

"Where are you going?" Gilbert asked, grabbing his arm. Ludwig took a deep breath.

"I just need to step outside for a minute."

At that his brother nodded, and let go. "Don't be long."

The chilly spring air felt good as he exited the bar. He leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. He reminded himself that acting out wouldn't solve anything, that he'd already tried solving his problems with breaking things, and it hadn't worked out too well.

Once he'd sufficiently calmed himself Ludwig began to scan the street. He was in a safer part of Berlin, where the majority of the population was families and the elderly. He saw friends laughing and couples holding hands, some of which had children. There were two elderly men playing chess across the street, laughing and joking. They smiled kindly when a passerby bumped into the chess table.

" _Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace_... Ve, I forgot I'm in Germany. _Es tut... Es tut_... _."_

Time stood still.

Ludwig didn't like figures of speech. They always set out to make things more complicated than they needed to be, always supplying more emotion than was necessary. The term fit however. The moment he looked up at the sound of that voice, hours had gone by. People remained frozen in place, the clouds motionless against the sunset, all noise dimmed. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Everything was gray.

Except for the man across the street.

He wore a simple blue jacket and jeans. His face was rosy from the chill air that swept through this time of night. Small and unimposing, his skin was tan and his voice held a heavy Italian accent. One hand held the handle of a travel suitcase while the other scratched the back of his head sheepishly. His hair was auburn, it was cut short and- he felt his breath catch. He didn't trust his eyes. There was a random curl sticking out from the side of his head.

Ludwig blinked once, twice, time speeding up with each one until it finally passed at its regular pace. He still couldn't move, remaining frozen as he watched the scene that played out in front of him.

" _Es tut_ …" the Italian mumbled, still trying to remember the correct words.

" _Es tut mir Leid_ " one of the old men supplied, and he nodded, repeating the term with a heavy accent broken in.

The chess players laughed. "No need to hurt yourself, boy." One said, "This is Berlin after all, most of us speak English as well as _Deutsche._ "

"Ve, I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I've only been here for a few hours. I've never really been quick to learn."

"Are you an immigrant? A tourist?"

"No… well yes. I don't know." The Italian smiled again. "I'm just here until the end of the summer. I'm staying with my aunt. She's sick right now. I have her address but I can't find her home." Suddenly his voice took on a desperate, worried tone, and something in Ludwig clicked, and he could move again.

" _Germany, help!"_

" _Germany, I can't tie my shoe laces."_

" _Germany, I'm scared!"_

Instinct had taken over as he crossed the street. Looking back he was glad there was no traffic. He was paying little attention to his surroundings, his focus solely on the Italian who needed his help.

"I can help you find her address." Ludwig said, coming to stop as the man turned around. His heart stopped and sped up all at once. His pulse pounded in his fingertips where his hand was outstretched, waiting for the smaller man to take it as he always did, lean on him as he always did, be with him as he always did.

He looked at the hand, then at the German. His head tilted to the side in a questioning manner. "Have we met before?"

Ludwig tried to keep himself from showing just how wounded he was at the words. This had happened to him before, he'd seen someone who resembled Feliciano and he'd gone after then, only to have them turn around and not know how he was.

But oh God, this time was different. There was that wild curl in his hair, which was parted and cut in the same manner it had always been. His eyes were the same amber, there was the same blush dusting his cheeks, he had the same vocal tic. It simply _had_ to be him.

"I'm Ludwig." He breathed, hoping beyond hope that he would be recognized.

The man before him blinked, scratching his chin. "I don't remember that name, but your face looks familiar. How do we know each other?"

The words hurt; they left him stinging as if he'd been slapped. He wanted to crumble to the ground, to cry and sob and curse the world and it's unfairness. What had he done to deserve any of this? He'd already lost Feliciano once, and now he had found him, only to be hit with the crushing realization that no, he was wrong. It was an exact replica of the person who had been everything to him, one that didn't even know him.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, pressing a hand to his forehead in the hope of calming himself. There was no need to make a scene in front of this innocent stranger. "I must be mistaken."

"No." the Italian insisted, taking a step closer to peer up at him. "I know you from somewhere. I just don't know where." He then shrugged, taking the hand that Ludwig hadn't realized he was still holding out. "Oh well, you can still help me find my aunt's house- Ve? Maybe we'll remember on the way there.

He could only nod, staring down at the scribbled on paper the Italian handed to him, his mind barely registered the address. All he could think about was the hand that was in his. It was warm, dry and fit comfortably into his own. It was just as it had always been.

"I know where that is." The German confirmed, slipping the paper into his pocket. "It's a walk though. Do you want to call a taxi?"

"That's okay." The man said, wearing the same wide, toothy grin he always wore. It hurt him and healed him at the same time, all the while Ludwig wondered how on earth it was possible for one person to have this effect on him.

"I like walking." He continued. "My name is Feliciano, by the way. You said yours is Ludwig, right?"

"Right." He said, taking the Italian's suitcase with a trembling hand. Of course his name was Feliciano. The doubt in his mind had all but slipped away.

He started off at a slow, ambling pace that was the opposite of his usual walking speed. He couldn't bring himself to care however, at this point all he wanted to do was drag this out, to relish the company of the little, babbling Italian at his side whose hand was just as soft and lovely as it had always been. He briefly wondered if this was a dream.

"Maybe we met in Italy." Feliciano suggested. "I'm from Siena, but I spent time in Rome too. Did you go to any of those places?"

"I have been to Rome." Ludwig said.

"Ve- then it must have been there!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair as to push his bangs out of his face. It was then that Ludwig noticed the circular red spot on the Italian's temple.

"What is that?" he asked before he could stop himself. Feliciano looked up at him, and when he realized what the question was directed at he said:

"It's a birthmark."

"A birthmark…"

Then Ludwig covered his mouth and looked away, trying to keep his expression neutral. This wasn't a dream, it couldn't be. That excited and terrified him at the same time.

He'd heard stories from other, older nations. Once a country died they were reincarnated into a human. They looked exactly the same, but had been granted and extra life. They were given the blessing of living and dying as mortals.

The stories had never mentioned a birthmark where the nation had died, but he supposed that was because most nations were simply dissolved. Most didn't die in the way Feliciano had.

He cut the thought off there. So this _was_ Feliciano then- only a mortal version. He'd only thought that the older nation's stories were just that, stories. But now…

"Do you have any restaurants here that serve pasta?" Feliciano asked, his eyes glancing around the street. "Not that I don't like German food, but I've never really had German food. All of the names sound scary. Not to mention that pasta is _always_ good. You can't really go wrong there."

A soft smile painted itself onto Ludwig's lips. He'd believe the older country's stories, if only to make him feel better about his choice to walk this man home, and whatever came after.

"We don't have many Italian restaurants." He explained. "I can take you to a restaurant, then you won't have to worry about ordering the wrong thing. If you want to- that is."

Then the smaller man grinned. "I've only known you for five minutes and you're already asking me out." He said, "I'm flattered."

The German felt himself blush. " _Nein,_ it's not like that." He suddenly felt shy. This may be Feliciano, but he didn't remember the life they'd shared in the past. He had to keep himself in line as to not scare him away.

"Oh," the Italian said with a pout. "Are you sure? I would have said yes."

He started. "Really? You can't like me that much, not yet."

Feliciano laughed. "Silly German, if I didn't like you I would have stopped holding your hand already."

Ludwig glanced down at where their hands were connected between them. He hadn't questioned the action at all. This was just natural for them, even after twenty years.

They turned the street corner. It was dusk now, and people were heading home. Most of those they passed didn't spare them a second glance, that or they would give a small smile. He wondered if any of them could tell that the two had only known each other for a few minutes.

"Ve, we shouldn't go out tonight. I need to get to my aunt's house." Feliciano said, "But maybe tomorrow? I would like to see you again."

His heartbeat increased, and he wondered how after twenty years the man still elicited the same reactions from him.

"Yes." He said automatically. "Tomorrow morning."

"Morning?" Feliciano asked, giving him a surprised look.

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he completely lost his filter? Of course it would look strange to request seeing the man at such an early time, but he couldn't help it. He needed to spend as much time as possible with him, as soon as possible.

"Sorry," he said, "We don't have to go in the morning, you must be tired from your flight."

The Italian smiled up at him. "Oh no, it's not that! It's just that I might need time to settle in. We can go somewhere for lunch, if you want to."

"I want to." He said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

They reached Feliciano's destination all too soon, coming to a stop in front of one of the older, more rustic apartment complexes in Berlin.

"This should be it." Ludwig said, bracing himself for the Italian to pull away. He tried to keep the disappointment he felt from appearing on his features when he felt the smaller hand slip out of his.

However, it only took a moment for Feliciano to stand on the tips of his toes and press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Ludwig. I probably would have stayed lost if you hadn't helped me, then I would have died, and then my grandpa would be angry with me."

Ludwig smiled, touching his cheek where the Italian had kissed him. Even his dramatic tendencies had remained.

"Okay, goodnight!" Feliciano said, moving away from him and towards the building, suitcase in hand.

Without fail, Ludwig had cried once per year, and it was always on the anniversary of Feliciano's death. This year was no exception, though his tears were for a much different reason.

* * *

He returned home to Gilbert frantically calling the police.

"What do you mean you can't send anybody to look right now? Who cares if it's only been a few hours? He missing and-" he turned at the sound of footsteps into the living room, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Ludwig standing there.

He hung up quickly and approached his brother, his face stern. "What the fuck was that, Ludwig? You just left! What happened?"

Suddenly the man stopped, staring incredulously up at his younger brother.

Ludwig was smiling.

"What…"

"He's back, _bruder."_ Ludwig said. "Feliciano is back."

Gilbert shook his head, " _Mein Gott._ You've had too much to drink. You need to go to bed-"

"No." he said, his voice quiet yet firm. "I talked to him. I walked him home. If that man wasn't Feliciano, then I don't know who is."

"West…" Gilbert trailed off. "I know that it was a traumatic experience. I know that you miss him, but-"

"Do you remember what the older nations would tell us about reincarnation?" Ludwig asked, his voice now pleading. He _was_ Feliciano. He had to be.

"Those are just fables." He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"How would you know?" Ludwig pressed, feeling desperate. "How would anyone know? There are billions of people in the world. It's not like we could ever find a reincarnated nation."

When Gilbert responded with one of his rare bouts of silence, he continued.

" _Bruder,_ I have never lied once in my entire life. I wouldn't joke about this. I'm dead serious."

Gilbert picked up his bag and headed to the door, not meeting his brother's eyes. Ludwig's mind raced, looking for anything to latch on to, anything to reason with him.

"We're going out for lunch tomorrow. We can stop by your place and you can see for yourself."

He paused and turned around. His eyes were watery, and in that moment Ludwig realized that maybe he hadn't been the only one who missed Feliciano.

"Fine, come by whenever." He turned towards the door, though stopped before he could reach it and said, "I really want to believe you, West. I do."

* * *

Ludwig yawned as he ordered coffee that afternoon. He and his date were both tired. Though Feliciano was suffering from jetlag, Ludwig had simply stayed up for the majority of the night before, worried that he'd fall asleep and wake up to find it was all a dream.

"This coffee is sweeter than what I'm used to." Feliciano said, taking a sip. "You Germans really do like your sugar." He took another sip, closing his eyes with a small smile on his lips. "I guess it'll pass."

They were on their way to Gilbert's, though Ludwig hadn't explained that to Feliciano yet. He was still searching his mind for an excuse to visit his brother.

"I don't know how you can walk around without a jacket." Feliciano said, wrapping an arm around himself. "It's freezing."

"I left my jacket at my brother's house, it's nearby if you want to stop and get it." The statement was half true, he'd been missing his jacket for months now, but he didn't know where it had gone. He wouldn't be surprised however, if Gilbert was the culprit.

"Ve- how sweet of you! You're such a gentleman, Ludwig."

He fought away a blush as the man leaned against him, grinning widely. For a moment he could convince himself that nothing had changed, that twenty years hadn't passed, that this was the same man he'd found in an empty tomato crate, the same one who became his first friend, the same one he'd fallen in love with.

It seemed that Gilbert was waiting for them, because the moment he knocked on the door it opened, only to reveal his brother standing stiff, his eyes wide in shock.

"Italy?"

"Wow, you're good!" Feliciano said. "I didn't even say anything and you knew where I was from."

The brothers exchanged a glance; Ludwig tried to keep his face neutral while he spoke with his eyes.

 _Tell me this isn't him._

Gilbert invited them in and offered Feliciano a drink, to which the Italian politely accepted. Part of Ludwig was glad that he wasn't nearly as flirtatious as he had been with the man all of those years ago. He didn't know how he'd handle any threat to Feliciano, no matter how small.

"You have my jacket, right?" he asked, and Gilbert stared at him for a moment before he nodded in understanding.

"It's in my bedroom, let me go grab it."

Ludwig followed him, glad that the Italian was content to remain in his seat, tapping his fingers against the counter as he hummed a song to himself.

He found Gilbert in his bedroom, and was quick to shut the door behind them. His brother simply sat at the edge of his bed, his face in his hands, his body shaking as he sobbed.

"I wanted you to be right, but now that you are I don't know what to think. What do we do? West, you can't get too involved with him. He's a mortal. He'll die."

"I don't care." Ludwig replied, coming to sit next to his brother on the bed. "You know I don't care."

"Yeah I know." He sniffled, running the back of his hand over his eyes as to stall his tears. "Now that he's here I don't know what I feel. I'm so excited that he's back, but I'm scared because-"

"You don't want to see him go." Ludwig finished, threading his fingers through his blond hair. "I don't either, but at this point I don't think I'd be able to stop myself from seeing him even if I wanted to. I love him."

"You should give Romano a call." Gilbert suggested. "It's his brother, after all."

He nodded, pulling out his phone. Though they had always butted heads, he couldn't deny Feliciano's brother the opportunity to see him. If spending a day together made him this happy, he could only imagine what it would do for Romano.

He was surprised when it only took two rings for the man to pick up.

"It's been twenty years since we've spoke. What do you want?"

"Feliciano is alive."

"Fuck you."

Romano hung up, and he wanted to throw his phone across the room. He'd never been good at communicating, no matter how delicate the subject matter.

"Here," Gilbert said, pressing his phone into his hand. "Try it on mine, and think about what you're going to say first."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. What did you say in a situation like this? _I swear I'm not crazy but do you remember your brother, the one that shot himself in the face? The one who's been dead for twenty years? He's back._

He shook his head. There was nothing for it, no matter what he'd sound crazy. He dialed the number regardless.

"What do you want?" Romano's voice came after a few rings, shaking and frail. He wondered if he'd upset the Italian.

"Look, you don't understand. I saw him. He had the curl, the voice tic, everything."

"I swear to God…"

Ludwig's words came rushing out, he didn't want to have risk the man hanging up on him mid-sentence. "Did your grandfather ever tell you about dead nations reincarnating? He's got a birthmark in the same place he shot himself. It's been twenty years, he looks about twenty. I can send you pictures, you can talk to him-"

"Do you think this is funny?" He asked, his voice hot with rage. "What kind of sick sense of humor do you have? I lost my brother, and that's enough pain for me. Fuck you for drawing it out. Don't call me again, bastard."

When Ludwig heard the tone he nearly shouted with frustration, and went to dial the number again before Gilbert took the phone from his hands.

"You can try again later. I think you've angered him enough."

"I don't understand." Ludwig said quietly, fists clenching. "Feliciano died for _him._ It's because of him he's not here anymore. How can he just shrug that off? Why wouldn't he want to see him?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Nobody made him do anything. It was his own choice to take his life. Romano's just trying to deal with that."

Before the German could say more his brother stood, and after digging through his closet pulled out a familiar knitted sweater. He handed it to him, trying to muster a smile.

"I'll call Spain later tonight. Go have fun."

"You don't want to come with us?"

He shook his head. "Maybe later. You need this more than me."

* * *

They ate lunch in a little café and continued their date with basic sightseeing. Feliciano enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere and the nicely decorated streets, though something seemed to be off with him.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked, putting a hand on his shoulder when he noticed that the man had started to sway.

"Yes, I'm just tired." He said, shrugging him off. "It was a long flight."

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted by the smaller man.

"Is that a clothing store?" he asked, and Ludwig peered at the establishment that he was pointing to.

"I think so." He said, but before he could say much else the Italian was bounding towards it, and he hurried to follow.

"What are you doing?" he asked once they'd entered to shop, but he was answered a wave of the hand as Feliciano's eyes scanned the aisles. He seemed to find what he was looking for soon enough, and took off again.

He wasn't agile though, and would have run straight into the table if Ludwig hadn't grabbed his arm at the last second.

"Really, are you alright?" he asked. The man had always been clumsy, but never to this extent.

"Now I am!" he exclaimed, and began to shift through the contents of the table. It was decorated with an assortment of hats, gloves, socks and scarves, all of which were made of finely knitted wool.

"I want a scarf." Feliciano said simply, picking one up and examining it for a moment, he nodded. "This one will do."

Ludwig took out his wallet, about to mutter something about the strangeness of Italians before Feliciano huffed, shaking his head.

"I'm not poor, Ludwig. I can buy my own scarf."

It was gray and thick and looked like something a grandmother would lovingly make for her grandchild as a Christmas gift. Feliciano seemed pleased with his decision and even more excited once they exited the shop. Before they could get too far he grabbed Ludwig by the elbow to still him, slipping the scarf around his neck in a casual manner.

"What?" the German asked in confusion. Feliciano only gave him one of his telltale smiles.

"It's chilly and you gave me your jacket, so I bought you a scarf!"

Suddenly Ludwig's cheeks felt red. "You didn't have to do that…"

The Italian rolled his eyes and took his hand. "Just say thank you."

"Thank you." He said quietly, squeezing his hand without thinking. To his surprise the younger man only squeezed it back.

"Now, you said something about dinner?"

* * *

The meal consisted mostly of Feliciano judging each dish in a playful manner, complaining about too much salt or the lack thereof, or jokingly asking the waitress if they served pasta. Ludwig was smiling the entire time.

"It's not like Italian food, but it's good." Feliciano said as he finished his plate. "Ve- I'm going to make you take me out again before I leave."

Ludwig felt the smile fall from his face. "You're leaving?"

The Italian didn't meet his eyes. "My aunt has a disease; I'm just keeping her company until my cousin comes in the fall to take care of her. Then I'll go back to Italy and go to school, though I don't know what for. Grandpa always told me that a degree in art won't get me anywhere…"

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears. Ludwig suddenly felt sick with realization. This was all temporary. The Italian would go on with his life, and come this time next year he may not even remember the quiet man he'd met in Berlin.

He didn't say anything as he paid for dinner and led Feliciano home. What was he supposed to say at a time like this- anyways? He was just glad that the smaller man was content to do most of the talking; all he had to do was nod on occasion.

When they reached the apartment Ludwig expected the man to go without a second thought, but instead Feliciano turned around and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing the German to meet his eyes.

"You're really quiet. I mean- more than usual. Is something wrong?"

"No." Ludwig said quickly, looking away. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bother you."

Feliciano shook his head and stepped closer to the man. "Don't lie. You're sad right now. I can tell because you aren't smiling, and you've been smiling all night."

He wanted to give and explanation, but what was he to say? _I'm not sad, I'm devastated. I'm devastated because you're mortal and I'm immortal. I don't want to let myself see you again because I'm afraid this relationship will develop, then I'll have to watch you die all over again. I don't want you to feel guilty for knowing what you did in your past life. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be happy. I want to be with you. I want to spend every day of my life with you. I want to marry you. I want so many things that I can't have. Including you, because oh God, you're so perfect, which is probably why you were taken from me, because I never deserved someone like you._

"I'm sorry." He said simply. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

To his surprise Feliciano closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around his torso and pulled him into a tight hug. Ludwig felt himself melt into the younger man's touch, holding him tightly and burying his face into his hair. He'd needed this for so long.

For the second time that year, he cried.

"It's alright, Ludwig." Feliciano said quietly as the German began to shake.

It wasn't alright, because in a way he was still dead, and Ludwig was lying to himself, telling himself that this would work somehow, that he'd be able to just watch Feliciano go at the end of the summer and never see him again. That maybe, if he could manage to get the key to his gun safe off of Gilbert, he'd be able to grow old with him like he wanted to. They could have a family. Anything.

But he knew he couldn't. He had a duty beyond Feliciano. He owed it to his people at least, not to mention his friends. He knew all too well the pain that came from losing a loved one to suicide.

Feliciano wouldn't understand, anyways. Even if he did get reincarnated and somehow find him, neither would remember the other. He let out a breath. There was no circumstance in which this could work.

He settled for saying nothing, instead letting an overwhelming ache come over him as more tears fell from his eyes. It wasn't fair.

"Can I tell you something, ve?"

"Yes." He said quietly.

"I know we never met in Rome. I hadn't seen you anywhere before yesterday. I know your face because I've been dreaming of it my entire life. Sometimes you're a little boy and sometimes you're all grown up, but it's always you."

He felt the Italian's grip on him tighten.

"When I saw you yesterday it felt like a huge weight came off of me, one that I didn't even know was there, and I was just so happy to see you and to meet you because all of my life you've been in my dreams. You've been there. You were my friend. You helped me. You kissed me sometimes too. I loved you before I even met you."

Ludwig felt his tears begin to dry up. Could he have had memories of their past life? Was there a way he could somehow get them back?

"I know it sounds dramatic, and maybe it's just because I'm an Italian that I feel like this, but that's just how it is."

He pressed a kiss to Feliciano's temple, right on the birthmark. He was there, he was healed, he was alright, and that was all he could ever want in the end.

The Italian pulled back, moving his hands up to wipe away the remnants of Ludwig's tears. "Sorry, that must sound weird. My Grandpa always told me that I needed to learn what I should and shouldn't say."

"No, it's alright." Ludwig said, leaning into his touch. His hand was soft and gentle, it was Feliciano.

A moment passed before the Italian smiled up at him. "You should kiss me."

He didn't need any further prompting.

When their lips met he felt his heart skip a beat. The Italian was quick to wrap his arms around his neck and press their bodies together, whilst Ludwig kept a steady hand on Feliciano's back, using the other one to stroke his face. It was sweet, it was chaste, and it was loving. It was just like the last one they'd shared.

The lines between fact and fiction were blurring in his mind. It was like nothing had changed. If he kept his eyes closed then he could believe that he was twenty years in the past, in their bedroom, sharing one last kiss before they went to sleep for the night.

He felt tears in his eyes again, but that was alright, because Feliciano was crying too.

* * *

 _To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert called him that following week. The conversation started off simply enough, his brother asked him about his date, then went on to talk about the date he'd gone on with the pretty waitress the night before. Ludwig knew where the conversation would go before he even picked up the phone, and wasn't surprised when he finally heard:

"I talked to Spain."

The German sat up straighter. "And?"

He heard his brother sigh. "I told him everything I knew, that you were absolutely sure that it was Feliciano, and that I couldn't deny that they were basically the same person. He believed me, and he talked to Romano."

Ludwig heard his brother pause, and prompted him to continue. "What did Romano say?"

"He's still pissed as hell with you, but he's calmed down." Gilbert said. "He said that even if we were right he wouldn't come. Not because he doesn't love Feliciano, but because he'd be mortal, and he doesn't want to complicate things. He knows that he's better off just ignoring him."

The blond pressed the phone closer to his cheek. He knew what his brother was hinting at, that Romano had made the right decision, which he needed to follow in suit before he caused problems. Ludwig wanted to laugh, as if he even could.

"Feliciano leaves at the end of the summer." He said, hoping that his words would be satisfactory to his brother.

"That's probably for the best." Gilbert replied. "Then you're going to cut off all contact with him, right?"

Ludwig closed his eyes. He knew the question was coming; it didn't make it any easier for him to answer. "Right."

"Do you give me your word?"

He rubbed his neck, feeling worry wash over him. His word was his bond, and he'd always been notoriously good at keeping his promises. For the first time, he was unsure of himself.

"You have my word."

* * *

When Feliciano called him a few hours later asking if he wanted to go out, he was all too quick to say yes. It had been a few days since the Italian had spoken with him, and he tried to deny to himself just how worried he was in that time. He feared that Feliciano had left, or that he'd forgotten all about his rendezvous with a tall, quiet German man. More than anything he feared that it all really had been a dream, that he'd wake up one morning and Feliciano would have vanished, taking Ludwig's happiness with him.

Nevertheless Feliciano called, and he answered the phone perhaps a little too quickly, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was simply relieved that the voice he heard on the other line had and airy lilt to it, with a heavy Italian accent and the occasional "Ve-".

He arrived on foot at Feliciano's apartment later that night, happy to see the Italian as cheerful as ever as he bounded down the stairs, only tripping once on the way.

"You need to be careful, you might break something." Ludwig said, trying to hide the fact that he'd nearly sprinted up the stairs to help the man before he caught himself. The Italian took it at a stride, and Ludwig was pleased when Feliciano immediately linked arms with him, a wide grin on his face.

"Ve- maybe I should have let myself fall. Then you'd have to carry me to the hospital, bridal style and everything! It would be so sweet."

"Who said anything about bridal style?" he asked, and in a very uncharacteristic action he swept Feliciano up by the waist and slung him over his shoulder. He didn't know why he did it, all he knew was that he liked the way Feliciano burst into laughter.

"How rude!" he giggled, playfully hitting his back. "Put me down this instant!"

"But don't I have to carry you to a hospital?" he tried to hide his smile, it didn't work.

Feliciano huffed. "I guess this will work." He said, and then with a grin in his voice continued. "Besides, your butt looks nice from this angle."

At this Ludwig quickly put him down, feeling his face heating up. Yes, this was definitely Feliciano.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, hoping to change the subject. To his relief he was successful.

"I don't want to go anywhere, really." Feliciano said, his voice growing a little quieter. "I thought we could just go to your place."

 _Oh._

When his words were met with silence, the Italian continued nervously. "We don't have to do anything! I just thought we could watch a movie or something. I'm feeling a little too tired to do too much right now and-"

"We should stop by a grocery store first." He said, and Feliciano looked up at him in confusion.

"You said you can cook, didn't you? There's probably a place around here that sells pasta."

At that the smaller man smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him down the street whilst talking about the various things he could make. Ludwig briefly wondered if the man had any idea where he was going, but let him lead on nevertheless.

* * *

Ludwig was glad he'd just cleaned the house that morning, though he couldn't hide the messiness on his desk, he supposed it was acceptable. Feliciano at least, wasn't complaining.

They'd been caught in the rain, and both were glad to get into a room with a heater. Ludwig opted to go change, though when he came back he was surprised to find the Italian in his kitchen, already boiling water over his stove.

"Did you want to get out of those wet clothes?" The German asked before quickly adding, "I have some that you could wear."

Feliciano pouted. "I would, but who's going to stir the pasta?"

Ludwig blinked at him. "I can stir the pasta." He said, but Feliciano simply shook his head.

"No you can't, you don't know the technique."

He rolled his eyes. These damn Italians. "Feliciano, just go change, I'm sure I can manage."

"That's very sweet of you, Ludwig. But I can't trust you if I want it to turn out any good."

Ludwig decided to ignore that statement, and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're shaking. It will only take a minute."

Feliciano glanced at the pot, then at Ludwig, then back at the pot. Finally he said, "Okay, but don't stir it too vigorously, and be sure to scrape the bottom ever now and again, and try to give it a little bit between each stir-"

He took the spoon from Feliciano's hand. "The sooner you get changed, the sooner you get back to your pasta."

That was all it took for the Italian to go bounding off into the other room, coming back a few moments later, still half naked as he skidded into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt.

He was glad that the Italian didn't tease him for the blush that must have spread across his cheeks, instead pushing him out of the way and examining the pasta that he'd only left for a minute. After turning it over a few times, and even leaning down to listen to the sounds the spoon made as it skidded across the bottom of the pot, he finally nodded.

"It'll do."

" _Mein Gott."_ Ludwig said, though he couldn't bring himself to be angry. Instead he simply slipped his arm around his waist. Feliciano didn't flinch, he didn't even blink, instead he leaned into the touch, Ludwig didn't know that he had been expecting such a reaction.

The pasta was delicious to say the least, and Ludwig tried to blink away the tears that gathered in his eyes when he took his first bite. Even the cooking was the same. Oh God, how he'd missed it.

"Do you like it?" Feliciano asked, a hesitant expression on his face. Ludwig blinked at him, wondering how on earth Feliciano thought it could be anything less than excellent.

"I love it." He said, coughing and looking away. He'd never been good with compliments, but he felt something flutter in his chest when he saw the smile that spread across the man's face.

They ate in peaceful silence, and somewhere along the way Ludwig felt Feliciano's hand slip into his, and he gave it a squeeze. Though it was difficult to eat with his non dominant hand, Ludwig was sure he'd get used to it.

"Did you ever have a girlfriend?" Feliciano asked out of the blue. Though he was a bit taken aback, he was used to the man's antics by now.

"No." he said simply.

"A boyfriend?"

He paused, and while he considered it, he decided not to lie. He'd never been good at lying anyways. It was Feliciano after all, and he'd readily admit that he could never bring himself to lie to the man. With a somewhat shaking voice he responded.

"Yes."

Feliciano perked up. "Oh? What was he like? Was he nice?"

"Yes." Ludwig said quietly. God, this was a terrible idea. What if he slipped up and said something that would give him away? What if he delved too far into the past and Feliciano thought him insane?

The man simply stared up at him with wide, amber eyes, patiently waiting for him to continue. After taking a moment to put his thoughts in order, he said:

"He was very kind. He was silly too, and didn't take anything seriously, but that was alright. We evened each other out."

"Did you love him?"

At that the German stared at him, only to find the Italian's face neutral. He seemed to be genuinely interested. Ludwig wondered if it would be best to cut off the conversation there, but Feliciano didn't seem to be angry or even jealous, just curious.

"I loved him." Ludwig said.

"A lot?"

"Yes, a lot."

Then Feliciano frowned, and he felt a wave of worry wash over him. He prayed he hadn't said the wrong thing.

"Did he love you?"

He felt something clench in his chest, and though he tried to block it out, the memory of that cloudy morning resurfaced in his mind. Feliciano had thrown himself into Ludwig's arms, tears in his eyes as he spoke in a trembling voice, _"I love you so much Ludwig. You are so lovely and dear to me. Please don't ever think otherwise."_

"Yes, he loved me."

"Then why did he leave you?"

He stiffened, his eyes going to the hands in his lap. Where was he to begin answering a question like that? Feliciano had killed himself to ensure that his brother would live. He'd given up everything, his family, his friends, his love, so that Romano could have all of those things. Ludwig knew it was a noble act, that it was incredibly selfless in every way, and that Feliciano was being braver then than he'd ever been in his life; and yet, he wished the Feliciano had given up like he always did. Ludwig wished that Feliciano had come to him with his problems like he always did, that he took the easy way out like he always did.

It was just as selfish as it was benevolent. Feliciano had chosen his brother, but in doing so he'd damned Ludwig to a life alone, to a cold bed and a quiet, lonely home. In giving his life to Romano, he'd taken Ludwig's; and God, was he angry. He was absolutely infuriated that Feliciano hadn't considered his fate. He hadn't considered how his loss would crumble the German's world at his feet, leaving him alone and trembling in the rubble, hoping against hope that one day he'd wake up from the hellish nightmare that his life had become.

"I don't know why he left me."

"He was dumb." Feliciano said simply. "I don't know how he could bring himself to leave you, but it was a mistake."

Ludwig stared at the Italian, surprised to find his amber eyes narrow with anger. The scene was so ironic, he thought, considering that Feliciano was talking about himself.

"It doesn't matter anymore." He said simply, and that much was true. The past could not change, and with every day that became easier to accept. The man gazed up at him in confusion.

"Why not?"

"Because you're here."

"Oh."

A blush graced his cheeks, and for a moment Ludwig felt the incredible urge to kiss him. He was about to change the subject, to turn away and clear his throat and talk about the weather, but he didn't know if he could manage it without his voice cracking. To his relief Feliciano spoke first.

"I'm sleepy."

"You can take the bed." Ludwig said automatically, standing up a little too quickly. "I'll sleep on the couch."

At that the Italian simply blinked at him in confusion, and the he laughed. "Why are you so proper? We can both take the bed."

His mind flashed back to his first years with Feliciano, when the Italian would use any excuse to crawl into his bed at night. Other memories floated by as well, ones of sitting up and talking late into the night, comforting each other after nightmares. Others making love for the first time and waking up tangled with each other. He wanted to laugh, how did he even think sleeping separately was an option?

It was only seven o'clock, but neither seemed to mind. He laid on the far edge of the bed, trying to keep himself from disturbing the man who seemed ready to sleep at any moment. He was surprised when Feliciano simply gave him a strange look.

"What are you doing? Get over here."

Ludwig's eyes widened, and before he could respond Feliciano was already crawling over to his side of the bed. He slipped himself underneath the German's arm and came to rest his head on his chest. The movements were so learned and fluid, it was like they'd been doing it for years.

In a way, they had.

"You're warm." The Italian said, "I like doing this."

"Me too." Ludwig responded quietly, his hand threading through the younger man's hair on its own accord. He let out a rumbling sigh. If this wasn't what he'd missed the most once Feliciano had died, then he didn't know what was.

Several minutes passed in which he stayed absolutely still for Feliciano's sake, but the man never dozed off. Instead he traced small circles against the German's ribs, his feathery touch causing goosebumps to appear on Ludwig's skin. He was just about to say something when he felt lips press against his neck.

The Italian's hand began to travel across his chest, each circle he drew wider than the last, all the while he kissed the Ludwig's neck, alternating between soft pecking and determined sucking. He stiffened at the Italian's touches, but didn't push him away. It had been twenty years since he'd received affection like this.

"I thought you were tired."

"I was." Feliciano said, and in a sudden burst of energy he swung himself up to straddle the German's lap, he made quick work of removing his shirt, then immediately returned to kissing his neck. He no longer drew circles, instead resting his hands on Ludwig's shoulders, occasionally moving to rub his back.

All the while Ludwig sat stunned. He never thought he'd experience this again. These thoughts and feelings and instincts had sat buried at the back of his mind for years. Though he'd imagined it some nights, he knew that he'd never make love with Feliciano again.

Yet here the Italian was, his hands soft and gentle as they came to rest on his biceps, his breath hot and sweet against his neck.

"Ludwig?" Feliciano asked between kisses. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he breathed, his voice husky.

Then he took Ludwig's hands and placed them on his chest, prompting the man to touch him as well. It was then that he learned how to move again.

He was hesitant at first, his hands trembling against Feliciano's warm, flawless skin. It took ages, but eventually he remembered how to touch him. He let his palms wander over his chest, his fingertips across his ribs, his knuckles brushing against each collar bone. Ludwig marveled at the man before him. Every part of him, every hair, freckle and mole was still there. He kissed each one lightly, running his hands over every inch of skin he could, if only to further confirm to himself that the man before him was there, that this was his Feliciano.

The Italian's hands pulled at the edge of his shirt, and he grudgingly drew himself away to take it off. He hadn't even realized that the man wouldn't remember his scars. It took him a moment to realize what Feliciano was staring at. Compared to other nations he was lucky, only having one large scar across his chest, though obviously bearing smaller, less imposing scars on the rest of his body. Feliciano's fingertips brushed across the raised, pink skin, his eyes growing wet with tears.

"I'm sorry." Ludwig said quickly, trying to put his shirt back on, but the Italian put a hand on his wrist, holding him still.

"How did these happen?"

"It's a long story." He replied, and that much at least was true. "I'll put my shirt back on if it makes you uncomfortable-"

He was stopped when the Italian pressed their lips together. Deeply, persistently, and with skill that wasn't befitting of the virgin he always claimed to be, he kissed him. Ludwig could only kiss back, because of course Feliciano wouldn't care about his scars. Of course he'd reassure him with a loving, breathtaking kiss.

Feliciano pulled away from him, opting to instead press his lips along his jaw, the hollow of his neck, and then finally his chest and stomach, paying special attention to each scar he encountered along the way. With every passing second Ludwig felt himself slipping farther into oblivion.

There were no words exchanged for the remainder of the night, and when they finished their love making Ludwig found himself laying on his side, the younger man's back against his chest, pulled tightly against him as if he might slip away.

He didn't know what would come of this, and at the time he couldn't bring himself to care. It felt as if everything in his life and just fallen into place, and for the time being he'd pretend it would stay that way.

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning when Feliciano's phone rang.

At first they both ignored it, opting to instead burrow further beneath the heavy quilt Ludwig had thrown over them. It rang again however, and again. Ludwig sighed and sat up, reaching for the pants that had been left hanging on the side of the bed.

The Italian yawned and rubbed his eyes, hardly able to croak a "Hello?" when Ludwig handed him the phone.

At first Feliciano only stared off sleepily as the person on the other line spoke. After a few moments however he sat up, his face suddenly taken with worry.

"She _what?"_

The heavy fear in his voice caused Ludwig to stiffen, his instinct to protect the man making another appearance.

"But she didn't say anything like that, she said she was feeling fine. She walked all the way to the kitchen yesterday!"

Ludwig watched as tears gathered in the Italian's eyes, and he suddenly felt his heart turn in his chest. He could easily infer the topic of conversation.

"Yes, I can come in." Feliciano threw back the covers and shuffled out of bed, clumsily trying to put on a shirt and hold the phone to his ear at the same time. Ludwig was quick to throw on some clothes, and made sure to grab Feliciano's shoes for him, as the man was already hurrying down the hall.

"My aunt's going to die tonight." The Italian explained once he got into the car, his voice shaking. "The lady from the hospital said so, she said that her systems shut down. She's on life support right now so that she can get last rites."

"I'm sorry, Feliciano." Ludwig said, knowing that words didn't help in a situation like this.

"I don't get it! She was fine yesterday. She walked around the house. I didn't have to help her eat. That's the whole reason why I," he paused, glancing out the window. "Why I decided to go out last night. She told me that she'd be fine, that she was feeling great. She told me she could fend for herself for a little while, and a nurse always comes to check on her every few hours so I just thought…" by now he'd started to cry, wringing his hands in his lap. "This is all my fault."

"No it's not." Ludwig said, taking his hand. "She was sick Feliciano, there's nothing you could have done."

"I could have stayed with her." He pressed, each word tumbling over the other as if his mouth couldn't keep up with his thoughts. "I could have made sure she had company and-"

"Feliciano." Ludwig said, "What's done is done. Even if you could have done something differently, you can't change it now."

"But…" he trailed off, his lip trembling. "If there's nothing I could have done, why do I feel so guilty?"

"Because you love her." Ludwig said; his voice steady in an effort to calm Feliciano. "You don't want her to go, even though she's ready to."

At that the Italian dissolved into quiet sobs, and Ludwig simply squeezed his hand, knowing all too well that words couldn't help in this situation.

* * *

Feliciano's aunt died before they reached the hospital, and part of him was glad for it. The last thing he wanted was the Italian witnessing the death of a loved one. It was a pain he wouldn't wish on anyone.

They drove back in silence. Feliciano sat in the passenger seat, his eyes remaining fixed on his hands in his lap. Ludwig didn't push him to say anything; he simply let the quiet envelop them as they drove back.

The Italian only bothered to take off his shoes before going to bed, and Ludwig followed in suit, both too exhausted to put much effort into anything. Feliciano pulled the blankets up over his head, and Ludwig simply settled beside him, not pushing the Italian to do or say anything, only accepting the man who quickly crawled into his arms.

"I'll probably go home soon."

Ludwig felt his heart sink, though he knew it was coming. "When?"

"Before the end of the month, I'd say." Feliciano mumbled against his chest. "My Grandpa will want me to come back, and I still have to go to school in the fall."

"Alright." he said, trying to keeping his tone neutral. He'd been preparing himself to say goodbye to him, but not this soon. He thought he'd have a few more months with the man.

A bitter feeling spread through him, because of course, even something as temporary as this would be cut short. He'd only had Feliciano for a month, and he was nowhere near ready to part ways.

Ludwig looked down at the man. His face was still pressed against his chest, though his tears had stopped by now. His breathing had slowed as well, and the German was pleased to see that he'd calmed down.

"I'll come back though."

"What?"

"Ve- who says I can't study abroad in Berlin?" Feliciano asked, his voice starting to return to its normal joyful tone. Ludwig couldn't say anything, his mind was racing. What would that mean for them? If Feliciano came back then there was no definite end to their relationship. His heart soared for a moment. They'd have more time! He wouldn't have to say goodbye!

But then the heavy reality of the situation set in, because it would be more than that. If Feliciano stayed with him time would pass, and eventually he'd question why he was getting wrinkles and his hair was graying all the while Ludwig's appearance remained that of a twenty year old. What would happen then? Surely he'd be able to let him go before that point.

Right?

"Unless…" Feliciano's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Ludwig jolted when he realized the man was shaking. "Unless you don't want me to come back."

" _Nien,_ don't be silly." He said, knowing that it was a foolish idea to get the man's hopes up, all the while telling himself that it could somehow work. "Of course I want you to come back. It's just…." He paused, looking for any sort of explanation. "You've only known me for a month."

Feliciano shook his head. "I've known you my whole life, Ludwig. Do you remember what I said about my dreams?"

"Yes." Ludwig said, suppressing a frown.

Feliciano pulled away, staring up at the German with determined eyes. "Now that I've found you, I can't leave you."

Ludwig marveled that the man's words were exactly the same as his thoughts. He brought his hand up and placed it on Feliciano's cheek, enjoying the softness of his skin and the way he turned to kiss his palm. He couldn't help the words that escaped him then, they had been running through his mind for the past month.

"I love you, Feliciano."

The Italian started, blinking at him, and for a brief, terrifying moment he thought that he might have pushed too far, that he'd been mistaken.

"I love you too, Ludwig." Then Feliciano kissed him, and suddenly everything was alright; because the most important person in the entire world was lying next to him in bed, and he was kissing him in the way they knew so well. For a brief, beautiful moment, nothing troubled Ludwig.

* * *

Feliciano flew to Siena for his aunt's funeral.

He'd tried to keep himself in high spirits as he drove the man to the airport, hiding the fact that he was being eating alive with worry. The Italian had assured him that he'd return before the end of the month, that he'd convince his grandfather to spend the rest of the summer in Berlin, that he wouldn't just disappear without a word.

But how could he know? Ludwig tried to smile as the man next to him cracked a joke. They sat on a bench that was up against a wall, trying to avoid the crowds that were always present and the Berlin airport. Feliciano leaned against him, their fingers intertwined as he told a story about his grandfather that Ludwig honestly tried to pay attention to.

His mind was a mess however. It was all he could do to not break down then and there, because Feliciano was leaving, and though he said otherwise, Ludwig knew he could very well not return.

He tried to convince himself that it was a good thing, that it was better this way. Feliciano would leave and move on, and Ludwig will have avoided an even more painful goodbye that would have occurred if he stayed for the summer.

Their fingers were still intertwined, and he let his eyes rest on them, doing everything he could to memorize that moment, to fully appreciate his last hour with Feliciano before he left him once and for all.

It was then that Ludwig noticed the bruises on Feliciano's wrists. He retracted his hand, mind racing with concern as he pulled the man's sleeve up, only to see that the bruise extended nearly up to his elbow. He met Felciano's eyes, tenderly rubbing his thumb over the man's wrist.

"What happened?"

"Oh that?" The Italian shrugged. "I bruise easily."

"How did you get it?" he pressed, already feeling anger boil in his gut. If someone had laid a hand on Feliciano, he doubted he could retain any sort of composure.

"I don't know." He said, "They just show up sometimes. I'm clumsy."

His eyes remained on the bruise. It was a light purple, decorated with yellow and green towards the edges. It looked as if it were a few days old. "Did someone do this to you?"

Feliciano laughed. "Oh Ludwig, you're so protective." He said, shaking his head. "Nobody hurt me. I just ran into something."

"You need to be more careful." He said quietly, kissing the man's hand. "You're going to seriously hurt yourself."

Feliciano opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when a voice came over the speakers, stating that the next plane would be leaving soon.

"Well," the Italian said, standing up. "I suppose I need to go."

Ludwig stood as well, feeling his stomach churn with worry. What if he didn't come back? What if he never came back? Did he even want to risk him coming back? Did he want to subject himself to the hurt of Feliciano disappearing all over again?

"Don't look so grumpy, ve-" Feliciano said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing his suitcase. "I won't be away for too long."

He could only nod, not trusting his mouth to form the right words. Instead he opted to pull the man into a tight hug, holding him as closely as he could, breathing in his scent, memorizing the feeling of his skin, the softness of his touch, the gentle lips that pressed against his neck as Feliciano rested his head on his shoulder.

"Don't be sad, Ludwig, this isn't the end." He said, "I would never leave you alone like that."

The German wanted to laugh, to cry, to take the Italian home and never let him go, but instead he opted for a soft smile, squeezing Feliciano's hand before the man turned and left, not looking back.

* * *

 _To be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig had convinced himself that he wouldn't answer the phone when Feliciano called. He convinced himself that he didn't miss the man with everything in him, that he hadn't been trying to hold himself back from breaking into to tears the moment the Italian boarded the plane.

It worked for a total of two days.

Then he got a call from Feliciano. It was in the middle of the night, and he was on the verge of sleep, but the moment his phone rang he sat up, overcome with joy when he heard the lovely Italian accent on the other line. Then he was worried however, because it was choked with tears.

"Lud-" Feliciano started, his words cut off with sobs. "Ludwig…"

"What is it?" he asked, clutching his phone tightly as the old, familiar sense of over protectiveness came over him.

"Why haven't you called me yet?" he asked, sniffling. "It's been two days!"

"I…" he trailed off. Why hadn't he called him yet? Oh yes, he'd been trying to distance himself.

"I wanted to call you but I was worried I'd bother you." Feliciano said, his voice hurried now. "I thought that you just seemed so distant at the airport and that maybe you didn't like me, but then I thought, 'No! Ludwig said he liked me. He's just sad. I wasn't sure though, so I decided I'd wait for you to call me, and then I'd know that you did like me and that you were just being grumpy like normal. But you never called me, Ludwig. Am I really that bad? I know grandpa says I need to be quieter sometimes and I know that I'm not very smart and-"

"Feliciano." Ludwig cut him off, worried that if he didn't the Italian might stop breathing. "There's nothing to worry about. I like you. You're not annoying."

There was a pause, and the he heard him blow his nose. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Ludwig said, running a hand through his hair. How had he ever justified this to himself? Of course Feliciano wouldn't forget about him. Of course he'd want the German to call him. Of course he'd need his kind words at a time like this.

"I'm sorry." He added quietly, then continuing before he could think better of it, "I thought you'd forget about me.

"Why would you think that I'd forget about you?"

 _Because you already have._

"I don't know, I was being irrational." He rubbed his forehead. "How are you, Feliciano?"

"Ve- better now." The Italian said. "The funeral was sad, but it was pretty too, just like most sad things."

Ludwig laid down, relaxing into the blankets as he listened to the man speak.

"There were more people than I expected, she didn't have a lot of friends. It's probably just because she was Italian though, Italian's like to get together. Her husband's family was there too! Even though her husband is dead, isn't that weird? And so that meant there were a bunch of angry Germans who came to my house for dinner! Can you imagine?"

Ludwig laughed. "Not at all."

"Oh, well I can." He said, his voice growing quieter as he continued. "I'm really sad right now, Ludwig. I don't know why though, I didn't ever know my aunt that well, only that she was nice and made good cakes, but she didn't ever really talk. I don't know why it makes me so sad that she…"

His voice cut off, and soon Ludwig heard him break into sobs. The German sat quietly for several moments, waiting for him to continue, though he didn't. Finally he replied.

"It's normal to be sad when someone dies." He said, "Even if you didn't know her well, you loved her, and that's enough."

"Why do people die?"

At this Ludwig felt himself stiffen. For a few moments he searched for words, and though he wasn't satisfied with what he found he spoke regardless.

"Some people are too good to stay." He said, feeling his own voice break as memories drifted through his mind of a funeral he'd attended twenty years ago.

He'd been asking the same question at the time, and I was the only answer he'd been able to come up with.

* * *

Ludwig didn't bother to hold out on calling Feliciano after that night, and they held conversations daily for the following weeks. They usually spoke about menial things, like the weather, cooking, or the plane tickets that one of them would eventually buy to visit the other. Feliciano's spirits steadily began to look up, and Ludwig was glad for it. The Italian had always been the light of his life, and twenty years of separation hadn't changed that.

His phone rang earlier than normal one day, and though he was surprised that Feliciano was awake at such a reasonable hour, he didn't hesitate to answer.

"Hello, Feliciano."

"Ludwig…"

An icy shiver ran through him, and he froze from where he stood making breakfast.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"I…" Feliciano's voice shook, sounding as weak as it ever had, and Ludwig had to tell himself to stand still, that it would be foolish to put on shoes and run to the airport, that he was probably exaggerating whatever was happening.

"I'm sick, Ludwig."

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking a single deep, shuddering breath. He had to stay calm. He had to listen. Feliciano could merely be acting dramatic as he always did, for all Ludwig knew he had a terrible cold. Maybe he ate something he shouldn't have, or maybe he slipped and broke a bone just as Ludwig had been expecting him to do for weeks. Those bruises on his arm had nothing to do with it- right? He'd just run into something. He couldn't possibly be…

"I fell down yesterday. My grandpa was scared and took me to the hospital." He paused, and Ludwig prayed that it wasn't what he feared it would be. Terror was eating at his insides; every vein in his body was on fire, every hair on end, his mind an endless repetition of the word, 'No _.'_

"I guess those bruises were a bad sign." Feliciano continued. "It's called _'Acute myeloid leukemia',_ Ludwig. It's really bad."

"How bad?" Ludwig had given up at controlling himself now, and was already moving to his bedroom to pack his bags and pull on some shoes, though the later was a feat in itself due to the trembling of his hands.

"I don't know." He said, his voice wavering in that way that it did when he was about to cry. "He said a lot of big words and I didn't understand most of them, but he said I might make it through the month. He said I should have come in to the hospital earlier and that there's nothing he can do. He said-"

"Feliciano." The German stopped what he was doing, realizing that there were more pressing matters at hand. God, he was so selfish. He'd allowed his own fear to take priority over the state of Feliciano, who was likely scared out of his mind. "Take a deep breath. It's going to be alright. I'm getting on a plane to Siena tonight."

"Okay." He said, and with what sounded like great effort he took a long, stuttering breath, and immediately burst into tears.

"Hey, it's alright." Ludwig assured him, wiping his own eyes fiercely.

It wasn't, it never would be, and he should have figured as much.

* * *

The sight of Feliciano, pale and weak and limp in his bed, was nearly as horrifying as the sight of him covered in his own blood.

"That was shorter than I expected, did you miss me that much?" Feliciano asked when he walked in, but Ludwig didn't say anything, he crossed the room before the Italian could finish his sentence, and wasn't surprised to see that there were tears in his eyes once he reached the bed.

He had the man in his arms in a second; letting him rest his head on his shoulder as tears fell from his eyes. Ludwig rubbed his back, kissed his forehead, held his hand, doing any and everything he could to comfort the man, knowing that his efforts could only go so far.

"I'm sorry." Feliciano whimpered, clinging to him, and Ludwig held his trembling frame tighter. "I don't want you to see me like this. I can't eat anything. I'm having trouble walking. I'm really sick, Ludwig."

"I know." He said softly, pulling back to examine him. He'd lost weight and grown pale. He was hooked up to several machines, all of which made Ludwig nervous with their various colors and numbers. His face had hollowed out, and his normal, cheery grin was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes were the same, however.

"I'm going to die, Ludwig." He said, "The doctor told me so."

Dear God, what was he supposed to say to that? The same anger, white and hot and tearful, that he'd felt when he first me Feliciano and the man hadn't known him, coursed through his veins then. What on earth had he ever done to deserve this? Why was this happening _again_? He'd already lost the man once, was that not enough?

"I love you, Feliciano." He said, squeezing his hand as he held the man's gaze. It was a phrase that he'd only just realized he should have been using every second of every day. "I love you." He repeated.

"Enough to go out and get me pasta?" he asked, trying to crack a grin. "Hospital food is boring, but I can't tell my grandpa to get me some because he's always busy. He's tried to take time off work to visit me but his job is demanding. I don't have a lot of family other than him, Ludwig. I told you that a lot of people came to my aunt's funeral, but I don't know why they aren't coming to see me. Do I only matter when I'm dead? Did they think that I can just... being alone is just the worst thing and…" His voice broke, and tears gathered in his eyes while lips trembled.

"I missed you." Feliciano whispered, and Ludwig pulled him back into a hug, "I love you." He said for the third time, knowing that it would do nothing to help but unable to say anything else.

"I love you too, my big angry German" Feliciano said, letting out a soft laugh. "I wish this wasn't happening. I wish we were back in Berlin. I wish I could make you dinner again. I wish we could walk around the city again. I wish I wasn't dying. I don't want to die."

"I know." Ludwig said. " _Mein Gott,_ I'm so sorry."

"God doesn't like us very much does he?"

He smiled wryly. "Not at all."

* * *

Feliciano had listed the restaurant he wanted pasta from, and he went out to get it a few hours later. Ludwig took his time getting back to the hospital, trying to enjoy the scenery that the city had to offer, all the while ignoring the dull pain in his chest.

One day he would have walked these streets with Feliciano. He would take him out to any restaurant he wanted, he would have spent the entire day on the sunlit streets, enjoying the breeze and the lovely, babbling Italian in his company.

The only thing he could think was how cruel the world could be.

His chest hurt, his head hurt, every part of him hurt. It was all he could do to not curl up into a ball and begin to cry. Knowing when he would lose Feliciano was almost as horrifying as being surprised by a nine millimeter in a church. At least it wasn't that.

He clutched the take out box tightly in his hands as he made his way up the hospital steps, through the lobby and into the elevator.

At least it wasn't that.

* * *

Feliciano's grandfather was the Roman Empire, and for some reason Ludwig wasn't surprised.

They ran into each other in the hall outside of Feliciano's room, and Ludwig could only stare for a few moments, unsure of what he was seeing. After thoroughly looking him up and down, the man said;

"So you're the guy he never shuts up about." He offered him a hand, and he shook it firmly. "Ludwig, is it?"

"Yes… er…"

"My name is Julius." He said, brown eyes still scanning him despite the grin on his face. "How long have you known my grandson?"

Though the first response that went through his mind was " _hundreds of years,"_ Ludwig simply said, "A few months."

"Not long enough for my tastes, but oh well." He said, a small, sad smile gracing his lips. "It's not as if you have a chance with him now."

Ludwig looked down at his hands, frowning. "No, it looks like I don't."

"But hey! There's no reason to say such terrible things now." Julius said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's be happy, yes? For his sake."

"Excuse me, Julius and…" A man in a white lab coat with an aged, good natured face approached them. Ludwig assumed he was Feliciano's doctor.

"I'm Ludwig." The German said, and the man scratched his chin.

"You aren't on the list of family members." He said, "How do you know him?"

"He's Feli's boyfriend." Julius said. "Not what you'd expect, huh? You think he would've been scared to death of the guy."

"Well then, I suppose you can hear this too." The doctor said, his face growing melancholy. "I have good news."

Julius let out a bark of laughter. "Isn't that a refreshing change?"

The doctor nodded, slipping his clip board into the pocket of his lab coat. "You can take him home now. We'll provide equipment and medication to ensure he's not in pain, as well as a hospice staff that will visit every now and again."

"Then how long until he..?" Ludwig asked, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. When he said 'good news' it seemed as if he had expected too much.

"A few weeks, maybe." The doctor said, "At the very most to the start of the summer. We caught it right before the end stage, I'm afraid. His systems are already slowing down. I'm sad to say that it's only a matter of time."

Ludwig nodded, not trusting his voice to respond.

"Can we take him home tonight?" Julius asked, and when the doctor nodded he turned to Ludwig. "In that case, we have a spare bedroom if you'd like to stay."

He only nodded again, and at that the man's face lit up.

" _Grazie a Dio!_ " he said. "He'll be so happy."

* * *

Feliciano's home was quaint, with faded wallpaper and worn furniture and several paintings decorating the walls. A radio played in the kitchen, which smelled distinctly of baked bread. Feliciano's room matched the rest of the house, though now there were machines and equipment scattered around the room, so much so that Ludwig had to be wary of where he walked.

To Feliciano's joy, and Ludwig's relief, several people came by the house those next few days. Some were related to him, others distant friends, and there were some that the Italian readily admitted he didn't know them at all. Each brought flowers and gifts, as well as an excuse as to why they couldn't visit before. They'd sit with Feliciano for several minutes, chatting about nearly everything but the looming, heavy fact that the man would die in a few weeks.

They each left with a tight hug and a kiss on each cheek, several even giving some to Ludwig, at which he could only wonder if Italians were even real.

It was during one of those visits that Ludwig ventured into the heart of the city again, though this time not in search of pasta, but a jewelry store.

It was a foolish, useless idea, but one that he couldn't shake. He and Feliciano were engaged before, though never got the chance to buy rings. This time he was determined to change that.

He purchased two gold bands, both simple and lovely in their own way. He'd just made it out of the jewelry store, clutching the little velvet box in his hand when his phone rang.

" _Bruder,"_ started the voice on the other end, and Ludwig stilled when he recognized it as Gilbert's.

"Where are you? I came by yesterday but…"

"I'm in Italy." He said, preparing himself for what was bound to happen next.

" _Mein Gott,_ West. What are you doing there? I thought you said that you'd let him go! Whatever happened to cutting off ties with him?"

"He's dying, Gilbert." Ludwig said simply, glad that his voice didn't break. It was the first time he'd admitted it to himself.

"What…"

He explained with whatever tact and delicacy that he could, keeping a steady grip on the anger that threatened to flare up within him due to the current situation. Yet again he explained to himself that breaking down, screaming, crying, shattering glasses, and everything else in that range didn't help. Nothing would stop Feliciano's death. He was foolish to think otherwise.

"I…" Gilbert's voice was dry. "I'm sorry, West. This is terrible."

Ludwig only waited patiently, hoping that his brother would hang up and he could return to the quaint little house at the edge of the city, that he could spend the rest of the night with Feliciano, telling himself that there was nothing wrong.

"Are you going to be alright?"

At this Ludwig actually laughed, clenching his fists so tightly that he felt his fingernails break skin.

"I'll be back before summer." He said, hanging up before the tears that sat in his eyes had the chance to fall.

* * *

"Ve- wheelchairs aren't so bad." Feliciano said, coasting down the sidewalk in front of Ludwig. "Everyone's really nice to you, and then I can get away with more."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Ludwig said, his hand twitching as Feliciano went over a bump, tipping precariously for a moment before gliding away like nothing happened. The man was testing his limits with ever turn of a corner. "Where are we going again?"

"Some place beautiful!" he said, slowing down as his arms got tired. Ludwig was quick to take the handles of his wheelchair and push him along. The Italian didn't protest, he'd been getting weaker every day.

"Is it nearby?" he asked, noting that it was nearly dark. Julius would begin worry if they stayed out much longer.

"Yes, just up that hill over there."

Ludwig looked at where Feliciano pointed, and felt his heart sink at the sight. It was a simple grassy hill that sat a few hundred yards away from the edge of the street. There was no way the Italian make it there in his wheelchair.

"Feliciano…" he began as they stopped at the edge of the street, "I don't think you can get up there."

Amber eyes stared back at him as the smile on his face stilled, and Ludwig felt something in his heart break at the sight. He was just about to assure him that it wasn't too big of a deal, that he didn't need to be sad and they could get pasta on the way home. He was interrupted by a cheerful laugh, one that dispelled all of his worries and brought peace to his heavy heart in an instant.

"Ve- remember what I said about carrying me bridal style?"

Ludwig felt a small smile spread across his lips. "Yes, that could work."

Feliciano was light in his arms, much lighter than he'd been the night Ludwig had jokingly slung him over his shoulder. The German was quick to silence the thought, instead relishing in the way Feliciano buried his face into the crook of his neck, his smile pressed against the skin there.

When they made it to the top of the hill Feliciano instructed him to set him down, which he did as gently as possible, making sure the man was comfortable before he joined him on the ground. He let his hand sit at the small of the younger man's back, and Feliciano moved to lean against him.

"What were you going to show me?" Ludwig asked, his voice soft.

"It's right in front of you, silly!" Feliciano said, gesturing with his hand at the space before them. Ludwig followed his gaze, only to realize that they sat at a high point in the city, and from there they could see all of the houses, churches and shops. Windows glowed with soft orange light, and if he listened closely he could hear someone singing in the distance. It was a surreal scene.

"I used to sit up here all the time." Feliciano said. "It's pretty at night. It looks like a painting."

"Yes," Ludwig said, shifting. It was then that he remembered the rings in his pocket, and he realized that there was no better time to propose to Feliciano than now. His hand shook as he sought out the little velvet box, though not with fear. A sweet sadness had enveloped him the moment the thought occurred, and he didn't know if he'd be able to control his emotions.

"Feliciano…" he started, pulling the box from his pocket. The Italian turned to him, eyes wide in questioning. Ludwig took his hand, and gently placed the box in it.

"I'm not good at things like this." He continued, "I know we haven't known each other long but I just thought that since…well…"

Feliciano opened the box, a soft, bittersweet smile spreading across his face as he saw what was inside. Tears fell from his eyes as he took the ring out and slid it on. It was loose on his now thin finger, but the Italian didn't seem to notice, instead he turned to face the German.

"What about you?"

"I got one for me, too." Ludwig said, pulling out his own ring and putting it on. "I know we can't marry in your country, and I know they aren't much to look at. I'm sorry if it's not-"

He was silenced when wet, trembling lips pressed against his, Feliciano's hands coming to rest on his chest as Ludwig quickly took him into his arms, returning the kiss gently.

Nothing was said for the remainder of the night, even as Ludwig carried him back down the hill and pushed him home. They sat quietly with Julius for dinner, and though the man had a knowing glint in his eyes as he saw the rings on their fingers, he didn't say anything.

They settled into bed not much later. While Ludwig had been given his own room, he always found himself in Feliciano's bed before the end of the night. It was a stark contrast to what it had been like in the past, but he didn't care. He simply enjoyed the way Feliciano fell asleep against his chest, his face serene as he pressed himself against the German's side.

The rings didn't change anything, and he knew that. They were a symbol, both superficial and unnecessary, yet he didn't mind. Their fingers intertwined, rings glinting in the moonlight as Ludwig gazed at them.

He didn't mind.

* * *

Ludwig awoke the next morning to a familiar voice calling his name. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as the picture before him became clear. Feliciano laid on his side, facing him. A soft smile played across his lips as his fingers danced over his chest.

"I had a dream about you again." Feliciano said, his hands settling down between them. Ludwig grabbed them and gave them a soft squeeze, enjoying the way the Italian smiled at the action.

"Was it a good dream?"

"Yes," Feliciano said, his eyes fluttering closed. "You kissed me until I fell asleep."

And so he kissed him. His lips brushed reverently over his lips, then continued on to his eyelids, forehead, cheek, neck, shoulder, then coming back to tenderly kiss his hair.

When he'd finished he realized that Feliciano's gaze remained steadily on him, his stare unblinking as his hands grew cold in Ludwig's.

He'd seen this same scene several years ago, of cold, lifeless amber eyes and limp limbs. Only this time there was no blood, nor screaming and shouting and cursing at the top of his lungs. It was just Feliciano, a soft smile frozen on his face as he lay cold and quiet in Ludwig's arms.

It was just as bad.

* * *

Feliciano was buried in a blue suit, just like last time.

It was a simple, reverent affair. Ludwig stood at the back of the procession, knowing full well that he couldn't bring himself to mingle with anyone that day. Several people showed up, all dressed in black and all brushing their hands against their eyes throughout. Many people gave him looks, but none approached him. It was only when the coffin had been lowered into the ground and the crowd had dispersed that someone came to him, it was Julius.

"You know, I don't really mind you." He said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I would've liked having you over for family dinners every now and again."

"I would've liked to come." Ludwig replied, looking away.

"Come and visit whenever you like, Ludwig." Julius said, and the German nodded, knowing in the back of his mind that it would never happen.

* * *

It was good to be back in Berlin. As lovely as Italy was, Ludwig had missed the people, the food and the overall atmosphere of the city. He was glad to go home, and was looking forward to the beer that would be waiting for him.

It wasn't the only thing waiting, he realized as he opened the door and stepped inside. Romano, Spain and Gilbert were all sitting at his kitchen table, whatever conversation they had being stalled at the German's entrance.

"I suppose it's too late to see him, then." Romano said, looking both relieved and devastated when Ludwig nodded.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly as he made his way to the kitchen. "I did everything I could for him."

"I know you did." Romano said, glancing at him with weary, red rimmed eyes. "I knew you'd take care of him just like you always did, you naïve bastard."

Ludwig looked down. The term fit.

"Thank you." The Italian added quietly, looking away as he took a shaky breath. Spain squeezed his hand and gave the German a nod.

"I've got a good idea," Gilbert said, trying to break the mood. "I bought a shit ton of fancy wine once I heard that these assholes were showing up, and I'm sure West has beer in his fridge. How about we share in a drink?"

They all agreed, and soon the atmosphere lightened as they sat around the table, making good natured conversation as they reminisced about Feliciano, being careful to avoid anything too recent.

The difference between tonight and that first night twenty years ago was striking. While then it had been ridden with screams and cursing and ambulance sirens, now it was peaceful. They had seemed to accept this death readily. It was different from when Feliciano had shot himself, instead he'd passed away in comfort and with a smile on his face, and they could at least find closure in that.

Romano and Spain bid them farewell not too far into the night, and a few minutes after they'd left Gilbert asked whilst gesturing to the ring on his finger; "You married him?"

"Yes, I did." Ludwig said, taking a sip of beer and enjoying the way it burned its way down his throat.

"I figured as much." He said, sitting back. "You were never one to half-ass things. I'm sure you don't want to talk about it, but I just need to know, was he happy?"

Ludwig put his glass down, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I'd say so. As happy as you can be when dying."

"And how are you?"

The German paused, thumbing the rim of his glass for a moment. "I'm better than I thought I'd be." He admitted. "This isn't nearly as painful."

"I've noticed." The Prussian said. "It still must hurt though; God knows you didn't need this. I'm sorry, West."

Ludwig could only nod, though in his mind he knew that this was all necessary. He'd needed a chance to properly say goodbye.

He'd gotten it, but for some reason couldn't bring himself to be satisfied.

* * *

Twenty years passed much faster this time around. Ludwig could finally do things and go places and talk to people without the constant, horrifying memories plaguing him every second. Now he was left with a bittersweet ache that he doubted would leave anytime soon.

There were two anniversaries, but he didn't need Gilbert to stay with him on those days. Though he didn't complain when his brother showed up regardless, and they'd usually consume a sickening amount of alcohol before midnight. It was just as it had always been, though Ludwig didn't feel nearly as empty the following day.

As he'd promised himself, he visited that same bar he'd been to twenty years ago. The pretty waitress no longer worked there, but other than that it was relatively unchanged. The people were polite and happy, and the beer was much easier to enjoy now.

He brought the pint to his lips and took a long, deep draught of the liquid before sighing and sitting back. It was just as good as he'd remembered.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt someone bump into his chair behind him, causing him to knock over his drink and spill the liquid all over the little wooden table. He reached for a napkin, but stopped midway.

" _Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace_... Ve, I forgot I'm in Germany _. Es tut... Es tut..."_

" _Es tut mir Leid_ _"_ he supplied, a soft smile playing across his lips as sky blue eyes met wide, amber ones.

"Hello again."

* * *

 _The End_


End file.
